I stopped in to my now former office this week to survey what all I needed to take home with me. There isn't much left, just some things on the wall and picture frames. There was also one piece of mail addressed to me in all handwritten caps. I opened it and this, with all spelling mistakes intact, was what was inside, typed on a piece of paper. It just seemed so fitting as my final piece of mail in that suck ass job:
THE KINGDOM OF GOD WAS HERE BEFOR DEMOCRACY. IN 1607 THIS COUNTRY WAS DEDICATED TO GOD FOR HIS GLORY. WE WILL TAKE BACK THIS COUNTRY AND REDEDICATE THE LAND AND ITS RESOURCES TO THE KINGDOM OF GOD AND ITS MISSION, FROM THIS LAND SHALL GO FORTH THE GOSPEL OF JESUS CHRIST TO ALL NATIONS AND ALL PEOPLES, SIN IN THIS LAND WILL BE VEHEMENTLY OPPOSED. THE WICKED AND THERE ANTI CHRIST AGENDA SHALL BE STOPPED, THOSE WHO REFUSE TO ACCEPT JESUS CHRIST AND REPENT OF THERE SINS SHALL BE PUNISHED IN THE END, AND NO ONE IN THIS COUNTRY IS BREATHING FRESH AIR WITH OUT JESUS AND GET AWAY WITH IT, THE KINGDOM OF GOD PREVAILED OVER ROME, WE SHALL PREVAIL OVER THIS REPUBLIC AS WELL, VICTORY IN JESUS IS COMING GLORY TO GOD GLORY TO THE KINGDOM GLORY TO JESUS THE SON OF THE MOST HIGH,
I mean, does it get any freakin' better than that? Someone spent 44 of their pennies to send that through the mail to me. Awesomeness.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
The Future is Now
In two days I will be putting on my semi-professional wear (read: pants with a zipper) and returning to work. A part of me wants to leap for joy at this. I will very happily get on the fuggin' bus and sit and read a book with two hands and enjoy the damn silence. Another part of me does not care to ever return to the world of work. It seems way too complicated to figure out how to get myself out the door in the morning, let alone stay coherent for several hours in a row and actually teach people shit. Shifting my mind away from what Ella needs to what 14 voice students will need is going to be monumental.
It is truly a moment of being betwixt and between. The past 13 weeks have left me unsure of what exactly needs to happen in the morning when one goes to work (as it is, I am writing this in my PJs at 10am because I haven't had a chance to shower. I want to work but I don't want to work. Ya dig? Work is not to be confused with 'time to yourself'. It is not that. It is work, where they pay you to know stuff and impart it to others. I guess being a mom is the same thing except you don't get paid except in smiles and giggles.
Somewhere in my mind, I figured you got 3 months of maternity leave because at 3 months your child would more or less have a schedule and things would fall into a rhythm. Well, that beat turns out to be always changing. Ella has no schedule to speak of other than a loosely constructed, eat when you want - usually ever 2-3 hours, sleep when you want - usually about 12 hours a night and 4 mini naps a day. BUT, sometimes she nurses for a 5 minute snack and most nights she's up only once, but last night it was 3 times.
Right now she still seems so dependent on me that I feel somewhat badly to be leaving her. I think the half days will be easier than the full days. Ben will be initiated by fire when he is home with her on those days. Our moms will be with her another afternoon while I teach. We are so lucky to be able to keep her at home and have family stay with her. Daycare would push me over the edge, I fear.
I suppose this dilemma will probably always stay with me as I try to balance my professional life with being a mom. But, I've still got another full day before I become professional again, so I'm gonna enjoy my sweatpants and midday showers until the very last second.
It is truly a moment of being betwixt and between. The past 13 weeks have left me unsure of what exactly needs to happen in the morning when one goes to work (as it is, I am writing this in my PJs at 10am because I haven't had a chance to shower. I want to work but I don't want to work. Ya dig? Work is not to be confused with 'time to yourself'. It is not that. It is work, where they pay you to know stuff and impart it to others. I guess being a mom is the same thing except you don't get paid except in smiles and giggles.
Somewhere in my mind, I figured you got 3 months of maternity leave because at 3 months your child would more or less have a schedule and things would fall into a rhythm. Well, that beat turns out to be always changing. Ella has no schedule to speak of other than a loosely constructed, eat when you want - usually ever 2-3 hours, sleep when you want - usually about 12 hours a night and 4 mini naps a day. BUT, sometimes she nurses for a 5 minute snack and most nights she's up only once, but last night it was 3 times.
Right now she still seems so dependent on me that I feel somewhat badly to be leaving her. I think the half days will be easier than the full days. Ben will be initiated by fire when he is home with her on those days. Our moms will be with her another afternoon while I teach. We are so lucky to be able to keep her at home and have family stay with her. Daycare would push me over the edge, I fear.
I suppose this dilemma will probably always stay with me as I try to balance my professional life with being a mom. But, I've still got another full day before I become professional again, so I'm gonna enjoy my sweatpants and midday showers until the very last second.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Gainfully Unemployed
This was a big week. I resigned from my administrative job at Harvard. After 6 and a half years, I was more than ready to go. In many ways the actual resignation was something I dreaded. Over the years my boss has been known for his outbursts and all caps emails. Though rarely directed at me, I had seen the way he had reduced students to piles of sniveling mess and I had witnessed many behaviors from him that bordered on unethical. It was clear he had no idea how to manage and no ability to work with me as I grew to be sure the job grew in responsibility and pay grade comparably.
Technically my maternity leave ends in a week and with the turn of the new year, I knew it was time to take action. I set up a meeting with a colleague at OFA who had listened to me over the years and provided support and help in dealing with my boss. I told him of my intention not to return and he couldn't have been more supportive. He is also a dad to a 4 year old and understands the shift in one's universe when you factor a baby in. He has also worked with my boss a fair amount and totally gets the difficulty of dealing with someone like him.
So, having met with him and having been told to simply send an email (I had thought it was something to be done in person and maybe it should have, but the cowardly way out was just fine with me) informing those who needed to know that I wouldn't be returning.
It really was just that easy.
Several people responded saying they would miss me and good luck. My boss responded in his typical over-the-top fashion, proclaiming me a 'spectacular humanoid' (whatever that is) and only about a third of the email was in all caps. He seems to think I will help with the 'transition' from now through the summer, but, ah, I have to say that is so not how it will work. He will have to figure it out.
As for me, I'm going to enjoy taking the pay out of my 8 weeks of vacation that remain and work 2 days a week as a voice teacher for spring term.
Come summer, who knows. We may move to be close to a place that Ben gets a job, or stay in the immediate area. Either way, I closed one door and hope a new one opens in due time.
Technically my maternity leave ends in a week and with the turn of the new year, I knew it was time to take action. I set up a meeting with a colleague at OFA who had listened to me over the years and provided support and help in dealing with my boss. I told him of my intention not to return and he couldn't have been more supportive. He is also a dad to a 4 year old and understands the shift in one's universe when you factor a baby in. He has also worked with my boss a fair amount and totally gets the difficulty of dealing with someone like him.
So, having met with him and having been told to simply send an email (I had thought it was something to be done in person and maybe it should have, but the cowardly way out was just fine with me) informing those who needed to know that I wouldn't be returning.
It really was just that easy.
Several people responded saying they would miss me and good luck. My boss responded in his typical over-the-top fashion, proclaiming me a 'spectacular humanoid' (whatever that is) and only about a third of the email was in all caps. He seems to think I will help with the 'transition' from now through the summer, but, ah, I have to say that is so not how it will work. He will have to figure it out.
As for me, I'm going to enjoy taking the pay out of my 8 weeks of vacation that remain and work 2 days a week as a voice teacher for spring term.
Come summer, who knows. We may move to be close to a place that Ben gets a job, or stay in the immediate area. Either way, I closed one door and hope a new one opens in due time.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
I thought the crazy dreams ended on October 26
Truth be told, I never really had crazy dreams when I was pregnant. Okay, except for the whole Eddy Murphy handing me a baby in the ocean one.
One night last week I had a dream that I have to relate here. Because it was ridiculous.
In the dream I was at Tom Brady's house that was somewhere in the suburbs of Boston. We had quite the conversation, Tom and I about his boys, especially his newborn. Then we took a tour of his apple orchards where we discovered that the Oakland Raiders had picked all the apples off of his trees and sliced them in half as a way of trying to intimidate him before the upcoming weekend's game. Feeling badly for poor Tommy, I offered to make pies out of all of his apples and got a wheelbarrow to collect them. Then, I was inside the house hangin' with Giselle and we talked about losing the pregnancy weight. She commented that it was her goal to get down to 1500 pounds. I said I thought she meant 115 pounds but she insisted she meant 1500. Somewhere along the line I started to wonder where Ben was because he would be far more interested in talking to Tom about football than I was about apples.
Then I woke up.
I could not make this shit up if I tried.
One night last week I had a dream that I have to relate here. Because it was ridiculous.
In the dream I was at Tom Brady's house that was somewhere in the suburbs of Boston. We had quite the conversation, Tom and I about his boys, especially his newborn. Then we took a tour of his apple orchards where we discovered that the Oakland Raiders had picked all the apples off of his trees and sliced them in half as a way of trying to intimidate him before the upcoming weekend's game. Feeling badly for poor Tommy, I offered to make pies out of all of his apples and got a wheelbarrow to collect them. Then, I was inside the house hangin' with Giselle and we talked about losing the pregnancy weight. She commented that it was her goal to get down to 1500 pounds. I said I thought she meant 115 pounds but she insisted she meant 1500. Somewhere along the line I started to wonder where Ben was because he would be far more interested in talking to Tom about football than I was about apples.
Then I woke up.
I could not make this shit up if I tried.
Something to Work On
I've probably posted about this before, but here I am, thinking it again and therefore, writing it again.
I am the queen of being in a situation and wanting to be at the next step - as in, while pregnant, I thought "wow, I'm so not enjoying this, I'll like it so much better when she's on the outside.' Now, Miss E is here and I think about breastfeeding 'wow, I'm so not enjoying this, I'll like it so much better when she is no longer needing me for sustenance.'
Ya know what? She will be done with breastfeeding someday and I would bet you any amount of money that at that point I'll find something else I wish weren't going on and think I'll be more content when it passes. Shit.
That is all so very yogic of me to realize. Or maybe it would be yogic if I actually did something about it. Realizing it has to be the first step, I 'spose. The lesson in there is probably that the present moment is just fine. It will pass and then there will be another moment. And then another and then another. Moreover, none of those moments are going to be perfect. Life isn't going to be better, it will just be different because life isn't really bad now.
Okay, that's enough deep thought for me. Surely it is time for the Real Housewives of the OC or something.
I am the queen of being in a situation and wanting to be at the next step - as in, while pregnant, I thought "wow, I'm so not enjoying this, I'll like it so much better when she's on the outside.' Now, Miss E is here and I think about breastfeeding 'wow, I'm so not enjoying this, I'll like it so much better when she is no longer needing me for sustenance.'
Ya know what? She will be done with breastfeeding someday and I would bet you any amount of money that at that point I'll find something else I wish weren't going on and think I'll be more content when it passes. Shit.
That is all so very yogic of me to realize. Or maybe it would be yogic if I actually did something about it. Realizing it has to be the first step, I 'spose. The lesson in there is probably that the present moment is just fine. It will pass and then there will be another moment. And then another and then another. Moreover, none of those moments are going to be perfect. Life isn't going to be better, it will just be different because life isn't really bad now.
Okay, that's enough deep thought for me. Surely it is time for the Real Housewives of the OC or something.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Throwing it out there
Yesterday I got an email from my workplace and it caused a visceral reaction. The kind that makes you go hmmm, and it wasn't a good hmmm. It was an 'oh my god I don't want to deal with that place any more' hmm. Taking a cue from the hubs, I noted that reaction in myself and kinda sat with it over the course of the afternoon.
It made me realize that if I'm going to leave E to go to work, it had better be work I feel inspired by and feeling is meaningful. So, I contemplated my 'skillz' and also my desire to be great at what I do.
I think I'm a good voice teacher, but I don't think I'm a great one and I don't think I'll ever be. I'm great at some parts, but those parts aren't actually music related. I know I'm not the world's best musician, which comes largely from lack of training - on the subject of theory, history etc. I can listen to the voice and have ideas about what needs to happen, but not always the ideas of how to to get there. I more or less know the repertoire, but no where near the way people who are my contemporaries do. Part of this is also that I'm not challenged in my current situation. I deal with mostly avocational singers who are not ever going to be anything but choral singers (nothing wrong with that, but very different to teach someone who has aspirations to be a solo performer). What I am great at is giving students confidence to try and to make changes and creating a situation where they explore themselves and gain a better sense of self.
I do think I could be a great yoga teacher which is also something that I find really rewarding and meaningful. Once I had that thought I emailed the women I went through yoga training with to ask them about how they'd hunted up yoga teaching opportunities and decided to post on Facebook that I'd love to teach a yoga for singers class, was anyone interested in hiring me and a woman I know who runs her own studio in Dedham, MA said she'd like to talk to me about it! Cool!
In that spirit I'm posting on my blog that I'd love opportunities to teach yoga - to both singers and non-singers alike. Any takers are welcome to contact me.
It made me realize that if I'm going to leave E to go to work, it had better be work I feel inspired by and feeling is meaningful. So, I contemplated my 'skillz' and also my desire to be great at what I do.
I think I'm a good voice teacher, but I don't think I'm a great one and I don't think I'll ever be. I'm great at some parts, but those parts aren't actually music related. I know I'm not the world's best musician, which comes largely from lack of training - on the subject of theory, history etc. I can listen to the voice and have ideas about what needs to happen, but not always the ideas of how to to get there. I more or less know the repertoire, but no where near the way people who are my contemporaries do. Part of this is also that I'm not challenged in my current situation. I deal with mostly avocational singers who are not ever going to be anything but choral singers (nothing wrong with that, but very different to teach someone who has aspirations to be a solo performer). What I am great at is giving students confidence to try and to make changes and creating a situation where they explore themselves and gain a better sense of self.
I do think I could be a great yoga teacher which is also something that I find really rewarding and meaningful. Once I had that thought I emailed the women I went through yoga training with to ask them about how they'd hunted up yoga teaching opportunities and decided to post on Facebook that I'd love to teach a yoga for singers class, was anyone interested in hiring me and a woman I know who runs her own studio in Dedham, MA said she'd like to talk to me about it! Cool!
In that spirit I'm posting on my blog that I'd love opportunities to teach yoga - to both singers and non-singers alike. Any takers are welcome to contact me.
Monday, January 4, 2010
When your travel mug becomes a bottle warmer: How everyday objects get transormed when you have a kid.
So, my lovely Ohio State Mug that for years transported tea while I commuted has been transformed into the object that gets filled with hot water to heat her dinner time bottle.
I realized one night while filling it that all your old stuff is subject to transformation when a little one arrives. Like: the use of a wooden chopstick to fish bottle parts and pacifiers from the boiling water used to sanitize them. And: When I started giving Ella baths, we had an infant tub, but she had to be put in the newborn sling to use it and so was not down in warm water which lead to much unhappiness as she was cold. Soooo, the little tub I've always used for doing hand washing became Ella's tub. It was the perfect size to fill with warm water and sit her in. On the car radio we now have a station programmed on the am dial that is just static - perfect for turning on when you are at a stoplight and the child who loves the car when it moves suddenly awakens and howls. Same goes for the hairdryer and vacuum that do dual duty as their usual household role expands to become baby soothers when she is fussy. It cracks me up that the closer I get to her with the roaring vacuum, the quieter she becomes.
Anyway, there are probably other items that have been converted that I'm forgetting and some that have yet to discover their true purpose.
In closing, however, my glass of wine is still my glass of wine.
I realized one night while filling it that all your old stuff is subject to transformation when a little one arrives. Like: the use of a wooden chopstick to fish bottle parts and pacifiers from the boiling water used to sanitize them. And: When I started giving Ella baths, we had an infant tub, but she had to be put in the newborn sling to use it and so was not down in warm water which lead to much unhappiness as she was cold. Soooo, the little tub I've always used for doing hand washing became Ella's tub. It was the perfect size to fill with warm water and sit her in. On the car radio we now have a station programmed on the am dial that is just static - perfect for turning on when you are at a stoplight and the child who loves the car when it moves suddenly awakens and howls. Same goes for the hairdryer and vacuum that do dual duty as their usual household role expands to become baby soothers when she is fussy. It cracks me up that the closer I get to her with the roaring vacuum, the quieter she becomes.
Anyway, there are probably other items that have been converted that I'm forgetting and some that have yet to discover their true purpose.
In closing, however, my glass of wine is still my glass of wine.
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